


Canticle of the Silent

by noblesse_oblige



Series: Canticle Of Heroes [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Novelization, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3432599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblesse_oblige/pseuds/noblesse_oblige
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years, Andromeda's voice has been the only thing she could call her own, unchained, and unbroken. However, after the fall of the Ostwick Circle and her attendance of The Conclave, Andromeda's voice is no longer her own. Now, she speaks on behalf of a woman she no longer has any faith in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Modest in Temper

The ground was as cold as ice in the middle of winter, bringing an unbearable chill up the bare legs of the prisoner whose circle robes were in tatters and wrists bound in iron shackles. Vaguely, the mage remembered being in a similar situation months before the fall of Ostwick Circle, but she had bigger issues to worry about.

The mage kept her head low, eyes focused on her hands, not wanting to make eye contact with the ever vigilant guards around her. It wasn't hard for the mage to ignore the reflection of swords in their peripheral vision. It was the urge to look away from her hands that was a bit more tough. Her left hand occasionally sparked, green light flooding from the cracks between her skin. It was just bright enough to illuminate the mage's face for a couple of seconds before fizzling out again.

The mark had scared the prisoner when it first fizzled to life in front of her eyes. Life in the Circle had her training to keep control of her magic at all times, and in that first moment she had thought she had lost all of her years of careful control. She flinched, waiting for the sword of a Templar to cut her down, but the sword never came. The magic on her hand did nothing besides leaving her with a pounding migraine, and the feeling of a million prickling needles across her arm that varied in intensity.

The  prisoner attempted to stretch her fingers to get rid of the lingering pain from the last spurt of light. When her hand was fully stretched out, the mark on her hand expanded like a stretched wound, spilling green light violently in the darkness. The mage gasped involuntarily using all of her willpower not to cry out as she hunched over in pain.

For the first time in several hours, the doors of the prison swung open. Two women marched forward purposefully towards the prisoner, no sign of fear or trepidation at what the mage was capable of doing even in shackles.

What indistinct light the torches around them cast gave the prisoner enough light to distinguish the two women. They had been the first faces she had willingly looked upon since waking up in chains.

The first woman had olive skin and two scars across her face, one reaching from the top of her left cheek down to the bottom of her chin and the other denting the other cheek. She had short black hair, crowned in a braid. Her armor, although rather casual, was adorned with an intricate weaving design: an eye at the centerpiece. The prisoner was no fool. She knew a Seeker of Truth when she saw one. The second woman was a little harder to see.  She was cloaked, and what little light hit her revealed little. The only thing she could see from the other woman, was a small crest covered by the fabric of her hood: another sigil with an eye at the centerpiece, although not as intricate as the Seeker's, revealed by the flickering fire of the torches.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now," the Seeker whispered in the mage's ear. Her breath was hot and hostile, sending the mage into waves of internal panic, "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you."

As the words began to sink in, the prisoner began to hyperventilate, gasping for breath's her body didn't know she already had. She looked between the two women, the shock apparent in her eyes as she stumbled for words, "W-What do you mean 'everyone is dead'? There were thousands of people in the Temple," She rambled, "Templars, Mages, the Divine. I - w-what- h-how?"

The seeker marched forward impatiently, gripping the prisoner's shackled hands, sending new waves of pain through the gruff movements. "Explain _this._ " She commanded, throwing the sparking hand back at the prisoner violently.

"I-I don't know. I don't know," She stuttered desperately, voice echoing off the stone walls, "I can't explain. I don't know what that is, _or how it got there. I don't know._ "

The Seeker launched down, pulling the mage up by the top of her robes. "You're lying!"

The second woman finally interjected, pulling the Seeker away from the prisoner as she landed roughly back onto the ground, chains crashing heavily. "Stop it! We _need_ her, Cassandra."

In the seconds that she wasn't trying to calm herself down, the mage attempted to process all the information she could garner from these precious few moments of interrogation. Firstly, the Seeker of Truth's name was Cassandra. Her accent sounded Navarran. From assumptions, the mage could guess that her interrogator was the famed Hero of Orlais, Cassandra Pentaghast: Right Hand of the Divine. Her presence here could be easily explained by Divine Justinia's presence. Secondly, the cloaked woman was equal to the Seeker, able to pull her away from her own actions, and her accent was distinctly Orlesian. Few people could match the authority of the Right Hand of the Divine with those credentials, but if the prisoner had to guess, she would have said that she was also dealing with Leliana: Nightingale, Veteran of the Fifth Blight, and the Left Hand of the Divine.

_What had she gotten herself into._

 The two women bickered back and forth, conferring information with each other as if their prisoner was not kneeling right before them, or perhaps it was the fact that she _was_ kneeling that put them in the comfortable position to do so.

"How do we know she wasn't a spy for somebody else?" The Seeker spat, looking pointedly at the chained mage, "Who is she?"

"I cannot confirm suspicions, but I don't believe she was spying. Spies are trained to react to capture, and this is not trained," Leliana explained rather calmly, pointing to the incapacitated mage. "She was on the list. She was _invited._ Andromeda Trevelyan. I did some research before coming here, but from what I've garnered, she wouldn't have ever had an opportunity to do anything of this magnitude. She's the youngest of House Trevelyan in the Free Marches; been living a life in the circle since she was six. She was voted representative on behalf of the Ostwick Circle for the Mage Delegation after falling only months ago. Cassandra, if I'm being honest, I don't think she's our culprit."

The rogue walked gracefully back over to the prisoner, Andromeda Trevelyan. Where she stood, her face was not blocked by her cloak, allowing the Circle mage to finally see her. Her face was sharp: pointed chin, blue eyes as sharp and cold as daggers, and a voice laced with poison.

"Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

Andromeda looked between the Right and Left Hands before taking a deep breath and looking back down at her hands, racking her memory for any brief snapshot of memory of what happened during the Conclave. She remembered the nobles, the Chantry staff attempting to be as accommodating as they could, the Mage and Templar Delegates alike causing no end of trouble in complaints, a pounding headache from all the politics involved, but she couldn't remember specifics. Only flashes. She had to sort through it all to remember anything useful.

"I- I remember...running? T-things were chasing me, and I -- a woman? A woman telling me run," Andromeda recalled, looking between the two again.

"A woman?" Leliana asked.

"She...reached out to me, but then...then," Andromeda clutched her head, painfully aware of both her faltering recollection of events and the returning presence of her migraine. Even if she tried to regain her train of thought past the sudden flashes of pain, she could feel her memories receding away like the Ostwick tides.

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana," The Seeker said, impatient with the prisoner's pauses, "I will take her to the rift."

The two exchanged glances before nodding and parting ways. Cassandra approached Andromeda once again, bending over to relieve her of her shackles. As each fell away, Andromeda could feel the burdensome weight leaving her body. It was a simple relief, but a relief nonetheless. The Seeker helped the mage up, steadying her by her shoulders firmly, but not with as much intended violence as she had before. Andromeda looked to the Seeker carefully, as she replaced the shackles with a taut rope. Likely to ease those outside of the prison more than actual containment. Rope wouldn't stop a mage's fire after all. 

"What _did_ happen?"

The Seeker looked worriedly back at the door, then to Andromeda's hand, then back to the mage herself. "It will be easier to show you."

Andromeda took her first steps outside of the dungeon with trepidation, unsure of what to expect. She prepared herself for bodies, for the ground to be covered in blood, familiar faces staring at her with lifeless expressions, however what she found was both a thousand times more breath-taking, and a million times more terrifying.

The sky just above where the Temple of Sacred Ashes should have been had been torn apart by the Fade itself. She could feel it in her bones, magic pouring from the tear in ungodly amounts. It set her nerves on fire. Swirling from the center of the storm were floating bits of rubble that, even from this distance, she could tell were the intricately carved Andrastian pillars from the Temple. Bits of green light were shooting out it like comets on a starry night.

"We call it 'The Breach'. It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour," Cassandra explained, "It's not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

"An explosion can do that?"

"This one did," Cassandra replied, hands set firmly on her hips in frustration. "Unless we act, The Breach may grow until it swallows the world."

In the peripheral of her vision, Andromeda saw the brilliant flash of light before she heard or felt what it was connected to. It sounded like a combination of a demon's screech and an explosion, but Andromeda could not differentiate between them. Instead, her screams synchronized with the explosion, pain spreading from her hand and traveling rapidly all the way up her arm and into her chest. She fell to the ground huddling over her marked hand, sobs wracking her body as she tried to take control of the pain. Cassandra leaned down inspecting her prisoner, making sure that she was not too unfit to travel.

"Each time The Breach expands, your mark spreads. And it is killing you," She explained, "It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time."

Andromeda looked up, not caring if tears were collecting in her eyes. "I'm dying?! N-no, don't answer that. It's not important." The Circle mage shook her head, clearing her thoughts, putting the pain to the back of her mind. "I-if this is the key, if _this_ can stop _that,_ " Andromeda turned her attention to the Breach, "If there is even the slightest chance that I can help stop this, I will. I'll go with you. I'll do what I can. W-whatever it takes."

Cassandra gave the slightest hint of a surprised smile before hauling the mage back up to her feet, brushing off the dirt from her tattered robes, leading her down the makeshift camps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I'm currently working on novelizations of all three Dragon Age games because I'm essentially a glutton for punishment. I'll probably be updating this one more often then the other two since the release of Inquisition is much more relevant and recent. I think I'm gonna try to keep this one going one chapter a day at the very least. That being said, this is an un-beta'd piece, so please forgive any mistakes! Also, if anyone is interested in being a beta, feel free to contact me!  
> Have a wonderful time!


	2. Marked For Greatness

Terror was not a feeling that Andromeda was accustomed to. Even during the darkest nights in the dungeons of Ostwick Circle she had just enough amount of hope and defiance to keep her going. Walking through the camp just outside of her prison, however, sucked all the defiance out of her. The looks the people gave her as she stumbled alongside Cassandra were petrifying. They accused without words. They condemned without sentence. The eyes of the faithful burned and Andromeda had to stand in the fire.

"They have decided your guilt. They need it," Cassandra explained, keeping Andromeda's pace at a brisk walk, "The people of Haven mourn our most holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry."

"They mourn the Divine, but not the thousands of other lives that were in that building?" Andromeda spat, the only people within earshot fellow soldiers, "There were so many more people in that building than one woman. Hundreds of Templars. Hundreds of Mages. Family. Friends. Are they not just as important as a woman with a fancy chair in Val Royeaux?"

"Of course they are," Cassandra spat back, venom hanging precariously off each word, "But the Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between Mages and Templars. She was the one who brought their leaders--" Cassandra stopped abruptly, facing Andromeda. Her eyes were steely and cold, heavy with suspicion. "--brought you, together. Now, they're _all_ dead."

Cassandra walked a bit away from Andromeda, staring towards The Breach as it sparked with life, the sounds of battle heard in the distance. "We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves. As she did." The Seeker unsheathed a small dagger from the holster had her side and returned to Andromeda, briskly cutting through rope. "At least until The Breach is sealed. You will have access to a trial afterwards. For now, I can offer no more."

As the ropes fell away, Andromeda rubbed the sore areas around her wrist. The combination of iron and robe did not serve to comfort her delicate skin, and she could already see the beginnings of a bruises around the circumference them. She looked up at Cassandra hesitantly, unsure of what the fallen ropes meant. She was sure she'd be taken all the way there bound.

"Come. It is not far."

"Where are you taking me?"

Cassandra lead the way while Andromeda followed hesitantly behind. She looked around for a bit, noticing that while there many numerous soldiers around them, none of them were paying Andromeda any particular kind of attention. There was no one ensuring that she was following the Seeker. If she had a mind to, she could run right now. Jump the bridge and use a barrier to soften the fall. But what good would that do, if only to serve as evidence of her guilt? And The Breach wasn't just going to go away. If these people knew any other way besides the mark on her hand, they certainly would have used it already. Which meant that Andromeda was their last and only choice. Their only chance.

"We must test your mark on something smaller than The Breach," Cassandra explained, not even bothering to slow her pace for Andromeda who was trying to walk briskly beside her. "Open the gates! We are heading into the Valley."

The gates opened, and Andromeda could only describe the scenes she saw as chaos. Wagons and rubble littered the path, fire spreading from the wood of the wagons to the damp trees of the area. Bodies, templar, mage, soldier, and civilian alike piled up carelessly, as if there weren't enough room or time to bring them to a more respectful position. Supplies were scattered. Swords bent. Staffs snapped in half. Horrifyingly, Andromeda caught a glimpse of a small stuffed bear, crusted over with blood. Several men ran opposite the pair of women, bumping Andromeda violently to the side.

"Run! It's the end of the world."

Andromeda brushed her shoulder and continued to follow Cassandra, whose pace had quickened into a full out sprint. The made quickened her pace, attempting to catch up to the Seeker when she felt the violent pain in her hand again. She didn't even have time to tell herself not to scream. It felt as though her hand were glass and she had just shattered it in a moment of frustration. The pain forced her to the ground, soaking her robes and legs in snow as she tried to gain control again. She kept attempting to treat the mark like her own magic, but it wasn't listening. It was foreign, and a force of its own, like an infection.

The Right Hand stopped and returned to the prisoner, pulling her arm over her shoulders, uncaring that it was still sparking and overflowing. She put her other hand around Andromeda's midsection, pulling her to her feet and then prompting her to take as many steps as she were able. Unsurprisingly, it was the Seeker that pulled most of the weight, keeping a decent pace even with the weight of another person.

"The pulses are coming faster now. The larger The Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face," Cassandra glanced at Andromeda's mark, "Both literally and metaphorically."

"H-how did I...survive? The blast, I mean."

"They said you stepped out of a rift. Then fell unconscious. They said a woman was in the rift behind you; no one knows who she was. Everything else in the Valley was laid to waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and presumably everyone in it. I suppose you'll see soon enough."

Andromeda limped lamely across the bridge with the aid of the Seeker, the mark on her hand never once ceasing in its spasms. Suddenly, The Breach expanded once more, shooting debris in several directions, knocking a gigantic piece of rubble before them, collapsing the bridge ahead of them. Cassandra lost her grip on Andromeda, free falling alongside her.

Cassandra's armor protected her from the impact, chest landing harshly on fallen brick denting the chest plate, but leaving her practically unscathed. Andromeda had enough of a mind to shield herself with barriers on the fall, bouncing harmlessly off the brick several times before coming to a complete stop in the snow. Cassandra was already on her feet, sword in hand by the time Andromeda has struggled to even right herself.

Several shades surrounded them, skating across the snow and ice unnaturally, the air getting much colder in their presence. Andromeda's breath was practically ice by the time it left her mouth.

"Stay behind me!" The Seeker ordered, running forward to engage, slashing and jabbing skillfully at the demons. They swirled around her, evading the blade. But for every evasion, there was one unlucky shade who met its end with the bash of a shield. Cassandra was unstoppable in the midst of her battle. Andromeda would have inclined to let her finish the demons off herself, but there was one thing Cassandra hadn't considered before engaging.

Andromeda was a mage. No matter how they got into the world, the demons would still be drawn to her power and connection to the fade, her ability to pull power from it. Several shades slipped down, and slithered away from the Seeker, approaching the defenseless mage.

At first, Andromeda was caught off guard, just barely throwing up a barrier as the shade slammed down on her. She yelped, and scrambled away from it, searching for anything around her. She could use her magic find without a staff, but it'd be a hell of a lot easier with one. Just barely, Andromeda spotted a reflective surface from under the debris of the bridge. The mage pushed her barrier outward, pushing the shades around her violently backwards to buy her some time to get to the staff.

"Please don't be broken. Please don't be broken. Please. Please. Please."

Andromeda reached down quickly for the reflective bit, pulling it quickly and carefully from the pile of rubble. The reflective bit was the top piece of an intricate staff, dawnstone if she had her gems correct. The wood that was connected it was stiff, chipping at the ends, clearly severely damaged. But it was still in one piece.

Immediately, the Circle mage swung outwards, creating an ice wall between herself and the shades as they began to regroup. Thrusting her staff downward, the ice wall instantly sunk back into the earth, letting Andromeda strike outward. She dashed forward, hand outstretched. White light filled the field gathering in the form of a giant great sword swirling in intricate designs and patterns. The sword pierced one shade, then swung outwards in the same direction of Andromeda's hand, slicing through the rest in so little time that one might not have even been able to see it had they not been on the field with her.

The act itself however was extremely tiring for the mage, despite how little time it took her to dispatch the demons. The staff she used was not hers. She wasn't used to the weight or feel of it, the materials were foreign to her, and the type of magic it was used for was definitely not her style. The staff was clearly made in favor of fire or storm magic, and not her preferred ice and spirit based magic. It was not made to channel the intense focused magic of a Knight-Enchanter either. The staff of a mage was personal, made by the mage themselves to channel and control their very specific brand of magic and mana for the best possible result. Gifted mages could change their style and adapt to different staves, but as talented as Andromeda was, her style was not so fluid. The staff she had conscripted snapped and splintered before she even had a chance to set it down, crumbling in her hands like sand. The mage sighed and approached the Seeker carefully as she dispatched the last of the ambushing shades.  "It's over."

The Seeker looked at Andromeda furiously, battle stance still rigid in her bones. The sword that had so expertly cut into the shade reversed itself and put itself between the mage and the Right Hand, its blade pointing precariously at Andromeda's neck. "You will remain disarmed, _mage_. Or I won't even wait for a trial."

Andromeda's hand carefully went up to the blade, touching it tentatively. Cassandra was a soldier, yes, and she would kill Andromeda if she had to, yes, but something about her made Andromeda believe that Cassandra was simply acting out of adrenaline. Out of fear. It was a reaction Andromeda had often garnered from the people since the fall of the Circles who were unused to magic being so openly used, let alone seeing the abilities of a Knight-Enchanter first hand.

Taking a risk on this state of mind, Andromeda gently pushed the sword away from her neck, but not outwardly pointing it away from her. She wanted to feel safe, but she didn't want Cassandra to think she was going to attack. If safety meant vulnerability, then so be it.

"Ok, Seeker. Whatever you ask, I'll follow," Andromeda's hand went up, as if she were trying to calm down a wild animal. Her hands glowed softly, not green, but the warm white light that Andromeda had been using before. "But you should know, that my abilities aren't something that I can disarm."

Cassandra looked the mage up and down, before sighing in aggravation, and lowering her blade. Andromeda took a deep breath of relief, and slowly put her arms down, following Cassandra as she began to walk the path again. Hesitantly, Andromeda began to follow.

"You're right. I cannot ask you to stop using magic, and I cannot protect you the farther we go into this valley," She explained once Andromeda had caught up. "I cannot expect you to be defenseless." The Seeker stopped walking unexpectedly, Andromeda taking a couple steps forward before realizing that Cassandra was not following. She turned back, eyebrows raised in confusion to see Cassandra's head dipped a little lower than she had ever seen it that day. "I should remember that you agreed to come willingly."

Andromeda smiled softly, extending a hand outwards. Cassandra took a second before taking the mage's hand, allowing her to help pull her up the slopped path. Not that it was needed. Within only a couple of seconds after that, Cassandra once again began to outpace the Circle mage in their impromptu hike up the valley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this headcanon that a mage's staff is an extremely personal item. That they make it themselves and it is an extension of who they are and that as a result, everyone's magic is different, even if they're using the same techniques and abilities. Andromeda's magic swirls in fluid, intricate designs. Vivienne's magic is constrained, all perfect angles and sharp edges. Solas' magic is wild and is never the same shape twice. Dorian's is dark, swirling, but warm.


	3. Unyeilding

Unable to use her magic offensively without a staff to channel the energy, Andromeda was forced to use her abilities in a more supportive sense. While most mages were capable of using basic offensive magic without a staff, Andromeda was well aware of the toll using such unrefined magic would have on her natural supply of mana. Cassandra did not have lyrium potions on her to supply Andromeda if she were to run low, and Andromeda didn't even have decent armor to protect her let alone a decent supply of lyrium. She needed every ounce of mana she could conserve, and the best way to do that was to focus on support with magic that did not require the focus of a staff.

Every step of Cassandra's was shadowed by Andromeda, there to protect her with barriers when her shield couldn't be fast enough. Cassandra noted very briefly that the prisoner did not keep the barrier up indefinitely, but used it when it was needed. Flashes of warm, white light filling the scenery and then quickly receding once an attack was effectively deflected. If her timing were not impeccable, the Seeker would have called the strategy a waste of time. Yet, here they were perhaps an hour since they had left and the mage still had mana left to use.

Not once had she thought that Andromeda might stab her in the back.

The number of demons before them, although seemingly composed, unsettled both women. Blood, sweat, and dirt caking every inch of visible skin on their bodies. When one wave was done, there was surely another to be fought elsewhere.

"They're falling from The Breach! We can't do anything at this rate!" Andromeda shouted.

Cassandra gritted her teeth, slashing through a wraith and then another shade. The tension in her shoulders was not going unseen from the mage.

"We're getting closer to the rift. You can hear the fighting," She shouted back between breaths as they scaled yet another dangerous looking staircase.

"Whose fighting, exactly?"

"You'll see soon. We must help them."

Andromeda rushed alongside Cassandra now, the rhythm of chaos and battle an unfamiliar song that her feet danced to as if she had practiced for these moments since birth. Both women saw the rift and the battle below at the same time, and both women didn't even hesitate to rush forth. The difference being that one woman had already seen the rifts and knew what to expect, and the other charging forward regardless of her lack of experience.

Andromeda's hands swung outwards, the now familiar feel of her magic ceased to startle the Seeker and began to amaze her. She conjured a barrier between the living and the demons, pushing outwards until there was a sensible divide between the two sides. The shades lashed out, slashing and slamming on the force with all their might while the wraiths attempted to use magic of their own which were just absorbed into the barrier without even a second thought.

The forces pulled together quickly the moment there had been a meter of distance between them and the demons. Ranged attacks volleyed the demons, arrows and magic alike raining down on them without mercy until there was no more fade creatures in sight. Andromeda had turned the tide of battle with one defensive spell.

Before she even had a chance to breath, a man rushed to her and grabbed her wrist desperately. He was dressed raggedly, but he still seemed to be in much more comfortable clothes than she. His feet were bare against the snow, his skin was cold, and he wore what seemed to be a wolf's jaw around his neck. His pointed ears and lack of Circle affiliation screamed 'Dalish Elf', but his disposition and the lack of the vallaslin the Dalish treasured suggested otherwise. He was a curious stranger indeed.

The elven man thrust her wrist towards the rift hurriedly, "Quickly! Before more come through!"

Light poured from Andromeda's marked hand, tethering her like a cord to the rift. She could feel it pulsing with energy and power, and if she had a lesser strength of will, she had no doubt that she would have lost herself amongst the pull of the Fade. It was so much more potent when she had direct connection like this without having to cross the Veil to get through. Instinctively, when the rift began to pull harder, Andromeda pulled back like a warrior pulling their chain grappled target back towards them. The rift exploded in green light, disintegrating like fallen ash. The mark did not hurt as it had when The Breach expanded, but the heavy feeling of being pulled lingered in Andromeda's muscles. Astonished, the mage looked between her hand, the elven man, and Cassandra, all of whom did not serve to answer any unasked questions that she had.

"What did you do?"

" _I_ did nothing. The credit it yours." The elven man replied.  

"So this...mark? It _can_ help?" Andromeda asked cautiously, aware that the mark was the only reason she had not been immediately sent to Val Royeaux or even executed on the spot. It was still no comfort to know either way. Its appearance was a mystery. Its _purpose_ a mystery.

"Whatever magic opened The Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand," explained the elf. His composure was calm despite his surrounding, and his tone was a mixture of serious and curious. The mark was intriguing to him as was fairly obvious. "I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in The Breach's wake, and it seems I was correct."

"Meaning it could also help to close The Breach itself," Cassandra remarked, approaching Andromeda's side.

"Possibly." The elf turned his attention back towards Andromeda, a friendly smile appearing naturally on his face, "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

"Or our damnation. Either way, good to know. I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever."

Andromeda turned her attention to the new voice, surprised by the attention of third person. The man, a dwarf, strutted over the group with a kind of confidence that Andromeda couldn't place. It was as if he was comfortable in this kind of chaos, born and raised in it, yet uncomfortable at the same time. The dwarf came up to about Andromeda's chest, had dirty blonde hair (although, Andromeda wasn't sure whether it was natural or actually dirt), and didn't seem to care about his exposed chest to the cold harsh elements of the mountainside. On his back, was an intricate weapon; a curious looking cross bow. He extended his hand outwards.

"Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong," The dwarf introduced, winking at Cassandra at the last bit, earning an uncharacteristic show of emotion from the Seeker that was not outright anger in the form of a disgusted scoff.

Andromeda recognized the name, had seen it on numerous book covers across the Circle. "Hard in Hightown" was a classic for mages and templars alike, and occasionally she saw a few copies of "Swords and Shields" tucked carelessly under pillows. Andromeda had never read the serials herself, but she had heard great things about them.

She took Varric's hand in both of hers, shaking it confidently and bowing slightly in respect, "Pleased to meet you, Varric. Andromeda Trevelyan: mage, knight-enchanter, and occasional Chantry prisoner," She introduced playfully, earning a hearty laugh from both the elf and the dwarf, and an icy glare of the Seeker.

Andromeda smiled slightly at the Seeker's disdain, noting how she obviously disapproved, but made no effort to stop her. "So, are you two with the Chantry or...?"

The elf chuckled, "Was that a serious question?"

Varric rubbed his hands together nervously, playfully glancing at Cassandra. "Technically, I'm a prisoner. Just like you."

"I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Clearly that isn't necessary anymore." Cassandra spat.

"Yet, here I am. Lucky you considering certain events. Bianca here will certainly be of service to you down further into the Valley."

"Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric, but-"

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me."

Andromeda watched the two bicker back and forth, stepping in warily. "I don't mean to intrude, but with how many demons are crawling around, we could use as much help as we can get. I don't think we can afford to be picky about who it's from." Cassandra groaned, turning from Varric and Andromeda and pacing a few feet away from them, collecting her thoughts. The group of three stood there for a couple of moment, just watching her attempt to regain her composure.

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions," the elf interceded in the meantime, "I am pleased to see you still yet live."

"He means, _'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept._ '"Varric chuckled humorlessly.

Solas shrugged indifferently, clear that either way it was said the words meant the same thing. It made sense to Andromeda all of a sudden, why he would have been the one to theorize the purpose of the mark, or had even some semblance of a clue as to how to utilize it against the rifts.  

"You seem to know a great deal about all of this, Solas."

"Unlike you, Solas is an apostate," Cassandra explained, arms crossed. "He has never belonged to any formal Circle, and has extensive knowledge on magic used outside of the Chantry's power."

"Technically, _all_ mages are now apostates, Cassandra. My experiences have allowed me to learn much of the Fade _. Far beyond the experience of any Circle mage._ I came to offer whatever help I could with The Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of Origin."

Andromeda's face furrowed in disapproval and disappointment, a look that had obviously been noted by the elf before she had thought to control her thoughts on his words. He sounded pompous, prideful. As if his experiences outside of the Circle lessened hers within it. They were both mages, but he had drawn a line between them, knowingly or not. Still, he was putting whatever feelings he had aside for the greater good. So could she.

"I-If I can help close The Breach, I will."

"Cassandra," Solas said, turning his attention toward the Seeker of Truth, "You should know that regardless of my experiences, the magic being used here is beyond any I've ever seen. Your prisoner is a mage, true,  but I find it difficult to imagine any such mage having this kind of power."

Cassandra nodded, as if she were thinking what Solas had said. "Understood. We must get to the forward camp, quickly."

"Well," Varric said bemusedly, walking ahead of the Circle mage, "Bianca's excited."


	4. Combat Clarity

The destruction and chaos became thicker the farther the group moved into the valley. The snow of the Frostbacks was no longer the pure white that Andromeda had been awe struck by upon her initial arrival to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Ostwick circle was consistently warm for the most part, and she had never seen natural snow before. It looked different from the magical frost that mages conjured. It didn't swirl in patterns. It didn't go where one willed it. It was a free force of nature, untouched and beautiful. But now it was muddied by the trudging boots of soldiers heading into battle, civilians fleeing from turmoil, and the blood of the fallen. The ice fared no better, cracking under the pressure of the weight of demons, soldiers, and civilians alike.

Running across the shattering ice was perhaps one of the worst parts about traveling through the valley for Andromeda. Every  sound of distress from the ice, every visible difference set her nerves on fire. It wasn't exactly the ice that unsettled her, but the water beneath it. If she was not in the thick of battle, she was imagining herself falling straight through the ice and sinking to the bottom. Thankfully, the battles never really stopped, and when they did, Andromeda didn't lack for orders to follow from Cassandra.

 _'Just keep listening to her,'_ Andromeda thought as she followed Cassandra, Varric, and Solas through the paths of the valley, _'One foot in front of the other and nothing will happen.'_

Andromeda took a deep breath and then began to hum, feet and magic matching the rhythm of her tune. She still lacked for a staff, but with Solas' presence she didn't focus on her lack of use of offensive magic. Instead, she set glyphs around any friendly soldier she saw to slow down demons, or protected soldiers and allies alike with a perfectly timed barrier from well aimed attacks.

With a rhythm set in her mind, the thoughts of dirtied snow and cracking ice left her mind. She saw exactly what she needed to do, where she needed to be. She didn't even hesitate to shoot forward when the path towards a fairly large rift had been cleared. She thrust her hand outwards, feeling the tether between her body and the Fade connect for the second time and pulled the Fade Rift closed when she felt her very existence tugging alongside the tether. Her muscles tensed as the remains of the rift fell amongst her. She felt sore. Similar to the feeling she got when she first started working on battle stances with her staff when she underwent her training as a Knight-Enchanter.

Cassandra marched forward past the troops, who at this point, began to stare at Andromeda with mixtures of confusions, awe, and terror. She pushed the heavy doors blocking their path inwards, and walked dutifully through the obviously makeshift camp. Varric was close behind, but Solas and Andromeda strayed a bit. The elf helped steady Andromeda, one hand gripped firmly on her shoulder, and the other cautiously examining her marked hand.

"How does it feel?" He asked, "Closing the rift? Are you alright?"

"It feels like," Andromeda's face scrunched up as she tried to search for the right words, "Like, trying to pull something with a rope, but the harder you pull the more  whatever is hooked on the other side fights back. It almost feels like you'll be consumed if you let it pull you instead. But, it doesn't hurt. At least not like when The Breach expands."

Solas smiled thoughtfully, letting Andromeda take her hand back. "That's a relief to hear."

The pair began to follow behind Varric and Cassandra. The Seeker was rummaging through a supply cache, refilling elixirs and potions she had tentatively used in the journey up to the forward camp. Varric had taken the liberty of conversing with resting troops. Andromeda couldn't hear the conversations, but the soldiers were smiling. It was the first time she had seen any of them do that, and it was surprisingly uplifting.

Just beyond them, however, Andromeda recognized a familiar hooded figure, bright orange hair standing out like a candle on a dark night. Her body was tense, and she appeared to be arguing, though her voice did not raise as much as her opponent's did. Andromeda could not hear the Nightingale's rebuttals, but she could definitely hear her challenger's frustration. Andromeda looked to Cassandra, who rolled her eyes and shook her head disapprovingly at the scene before brushing herself off. Andromeda took the lead, approaching the two verbal combatants. Expecting the two to continue with their arguments, Andromeda was caught by surprise when the hostility suddenly turned to her without a moment's notice.

"Ah, here they come." The man spat. He wore the clothes of a Chantry faithful, much to Andromeda's chagrin. His face was wrinkled with age and red, whether it was natural, from the cold, or frustration, Andromeda had no clue. But one thing she was sure of, was that he held himself highly, even if those around him didn't. He held his hand tightly behind his back, back straight, and nose pointed up, as if he were looking down on whoever he was talking to.

Leliana pushed past him, nudging him slightly with her shoulder. She looked relieved to have something else to entertain than a Chantry cleric who thought too much of himself. "You made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is--"

"I _know_ who she is," The Chancellor stated, turning to Cassandra, "As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face _execution_."

Cassandra's eyes lit up in fury. " _'Order me'?_ You are a glorified _clerk._ A bureaucrat!"

"And you two are thugs, but thugs who supposedly serve the Chantry."

Leliana laughed harshly, easily sizing up the Chancellor with the sound alone. "We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know."

"Justinia is dead! You no longer have any power in this regard! We must elect a replacement, and obey _her_ orders on the matter."

"Then why are _you_ issuing commands, serah," the Lady Trevelyan asked, "Just a moment ago, you thought you could order the Left and Right Hands of the Divine until they showed no intention of letting you order _anything._ One might think that you've suddenly grown a womb and been placed on the Sunburst throne."

Leliana smirked, face hidden from the Chancellor, obviously amused by Andromeda's choice of words, and somewhat impressed by the wit in which she chose them. Once a noble, always a noble.

"And why are we allowing this _murderer_ to walk free when we have good and noble men sacrificing their lives," The Chancellor spat back, "Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless."

"We can still stop this before it's too late." Cassandra said softly, soothing the crease between her eyebrows as if she were suffering from a mild headache.

"How? You won't survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all of your soldiers."

"We don't need to get our entire force to the Temple. Just the prisoner and small elite task force to offer assistance when necessary," Leliana explained, the frustration returning to her voice, "The Commander is down in the valley with our soldiers as we speak."

"Listen to me," Chancellor Roderick said gravely, "Abandon this now before more lives are lost!"

All of a sudden, the entirety of the sky turned green as The Breach expanded once more. The proximity to The Breach set the mark on fire, burning the nerves throughout Andromeda's body. Before she even realized it, her knees collapsed. Solas and Cassandra rushed forward, each grabbing one her arms to keep her steady and she caught her breath.

"Chancellor," Andromeda spat between breaths of fatigue and irritation, "If we abandon this now, the Breach _will_ consume the world. We are here. We cannot be idle."

Cassandra held the mage up and then steadied her as The Breach settled again. "Going to the Temple will put you at risk. Are you sure about this?"

Andromeda looked up to the sky, the green receding back into The Breach. If she did not know that the world was tearing itself apart at this very point, she might have thought that the Breach looked beautiful. Light slipping through the magic of the seeping Fade, rubble suspended gracefully in the air.

"There is no choice, Seeker," Andromeda explained, "Fight or lie down and wait to die? I think the choice is obvious. I won't survive long enough for your _trial_. Whatever happens, happens now."

Chancellor Roderick slammed his hand down on the table in front of him angrily, seething with rage. Between clenched teeth, he spat at Cassandra, "On your head be the consequences, Seeker."

Cassandra snapped into action, shouting order to able soldiers in the camp. The clattering of armor and weapons still a distinctly foreign sound to the Circle mage. Leliana marched forward, approaching Andromeda.

"If you're going into the Temple, you must be prepared. Your robes won't do any longer. Follow me."

The Nightingale grabbed Andromeda by the wrist and pulled her along towards a tent. The inside was barren save for a makeshift bedroll and small trunk of supplies. Leliana snapped it open and pulled several garments out of it.

"Here," she said, laying out several pieces of cloth and armor for Andromeda to put on, "You can use these for now. And try not to ruin them. They were a gift from a dear friend of mine."

The garments were both practical and beautiful, Andromeda noted as Leliana left her. It was a simple set of black leather boots, pants, and shirt that fit the mage snuggly followed by a knee-length long sleeved robe that faded top to bottom from black to a deep scarlet. The armor pieces were similarly striking: two obsidian crafted gauntlets as black as night that extended from her shoulders all the way down to her finger tips. The mage took her ratted hair and combed it out hurriedly, braiding it to prepare for the worst.

As Andromeda left the tent in Leliana's generously donated garments, Cassandra approached her, handing her a dark wood staff adorned with nevarrite at the top. Unlike the staff from before, it felt comfortably heavy in Andromeda's grasp, a nice familiar weight. It was a new and powerful staff, capable of withstanding the focused energy of a Knight-Enchanter as well as the rigid style of ice magic.

"We must hurry. Our forces cannot last forever."

 

* * *

 

 

The number of soldiers defending the forward camp and what remained of the Temple of Sacred Ashes alike were quickly deteriorating much to Cullen disappointment. The situation was worsening fast and he didn't know how much longer his men could hold out. They were barely recruited a few months ago. They were prepared for this sort of action yet. _Cullen_ was barely prepared for this sort of chaos, even considering his experiences in Kinloch and Kirkwall. And while he had expected a small bit of violence at the Conclave just for its conception, he had not expected destruction of this magnitude.

When the explosion occurred, Cullen had his men ready within minutes. Unfortunately, most of the men that Leliana, Josephine, Cassandra, and himself managed to recruit were within the walls of the Temple before the disaster. Divine Justinia has requested their presence herself as visual deterrence from violence for what good that brought them.

As soon as he had taken his men down further into the valley and away from the forward camp to scout, which he had done at the behest of Sister Leliana, a rift appeared before ripped through the air above them, pouring demons out like torrential rain. Cullen had taken thirty men to quell the number of demons around the area, and now he was down to twelve. Less than half of the men he brought down still drew breath. Demons were one thing, but they also had to deal with the constant bombardment of debris from the Breach.

The Commander yelled in aggravation and sliced through two more shades whose ranks were quickly filled and then shortly after doubled. In a hasty retreat, Cullen nearly tripped over the scattered planks of rubble and wood that lie haphazardly around the battlefield.

Lady Cassandra gave Cullen the position of Commander almost a year ago, and he was going to die here at the Conclave falling on his ass before he even had any real chance of making a difference. The thought of that in and of itself was enough to make Cullen want to throw himself into the rift and be done with it, but at the end of the day that would have been counterintuitive and as his sister would say, _'Not a very well thought out strategy.'_

In the peripheral of his vision, the Commander kept an eye out on his remaining soldiers. Rylen was far down to Cullen's left, and continued fighting as if he hadn't already been doing this for an hour, his sword slashing in wide, graceful arcs that cut down demons by the handful. Cullen was always surprised by Rylen's consistent energy. Far to Cullen's right a group of soldiers formed a tight team of shields, pushing demons away while a young woman shouted orders from the center, correcting any weak spots and exploits. Cullen vaguely recognized her from training exercises, joined only three weeks ago and yet was quickly rising through the ranks. Natural talent, natural leader. If she, or he himself, survived this encounter, he'd give her a promotion no doubt.

Cullen  himself pulled out his shield and bashed a terror demon down to the ground, using his sword to dispatch of the troublesome demon quickly before it could regain its position and disappear. Behind the demon, he could see numerous shades, wraiths, terror demons, despair demons, and the like. This battle was becoming too much for such a small amount of people to handle. The Commander turned to give an order of retreat, but before he could manage to do so, another terror demon shot out of the ground, swiping his sword away from his grasp violently. Its screech invaded his thoughts, disorienting him, and raised its claw to attack once again. He couldn't even think to bring up his shield.

Suddenly, a flash of long dark hair broke through Cullen's vision. A woman stood before him left hand up, holding back the demon singlehandedly. In her right hand was a dark wood staff glowing brightly as it sustained a barrier strong enough to push back the Fade creature when it slammed its fist frustratingly against it. With the nearest demon launched back several meters, the mage relinquished her barrier and turned to face the Commander.

She had hair as black as the sky during a full moon and fair skin, but what struck him the most about her appearance was the light purple of her eyes. The only thing he could compare it to were the lilacs that grew wild by the lake at Honnleath. The mage was small, petite in stature and build. If she were to stand against him, he would have guessed she'd only barely reach his chest. Her size, however, did not equate to her power. Despite his discontinued use of lyrium, Cullen could feel the thrum of magic on the battle field and in the air around him. It electrified the air and burned his lungs, but he didn't stop in his assault on the demons to make a note of how uncomfortable that amount of magical power made him feel. In her presence, the burning feeling of magic intensified, felt debilitating without the lyrium in his veins to balance out the energy. Only twice before had he felt any kind of magical energy even somewhat similar to what this girl had, and even then they could not even compare.

"Are you alright?"

Cullen nodded curtly, and embarrassingly ran to retrieve his tossed sword. The mage charged forward, throwing barriers up to deflect debris and protect soldiers as she ran headlong into battle. Energy swarmed around her, shooting outward in long graceful arcs, taking the shape of a Knight's great sword. The technique was foreign to Cullen, sending simultaneous feelings of curiosity and anxiety through him.

Following after the foreign mage, Cullen could spot Cassandra, Varric, and the strange elven apostate backing her up. Surprisingly, Cassandra was shadowing her every step of the way, dispatching demons that she missed and blocking attacks she couldn't anticipate.

With the help of more experienced, powerful fighters, the tide of battle began to turn. Barriers conjured by the stranger and the apostate helped injured and exhausted soldiers find a brief moment of respite. Varric's bolts never missed their targets. Cassandra's blade took out more demons in one fell swoop then could reemerge from the rift. Cullen's brow furrowed in frustration for brief moment. He came into this valley with thirty warriors, but it took two mages, a rogue, and a Seeker to stem to flow of the fight. Not that he would complain any time soon. They saved the lives of his men, and the stranger saved his life personally.

The mage strutted up to the rift, Cullen and Cassandra cautiously trailing behind her, sheathing his weapons as the last of the demons fell to another's sword. The Commander watched in terror and wonder as she thrust her hand in the air and connected to the very Fade itself. The center of the rift reached out, connecting to the mage, enveloping her in a cold, green glow. The magical energy swarmed around her in terrifying quantities, sending shivers down his spine. Cassandra, who stood to his left, watched in absolute focus, the flow of energy obviously coursing through her as well.

The soldiers gathered around the rift as the stranger pulled her hand violently away, slamming the rift shut with one motion. The force of the act blew several soldiers off their feet, Cullen himself staggering a bit. Suddenly, the elven apostate brushed past him towards the mage who was staring at the empty space in the sky just as focused as the Seeker beside him.

"Closed. Just as before. You are coming quite proficient at this."

'So she has done this before? Further up the valley?' Cullen thought to himself.

Varric pulled up beside the elf, hooking Bianca back onto the crossbow harness on his back, clicking in place. He chuckled softly, and then rewarded the stranger with an impressed whistle. "Let's just hope it works on the big one."

"Lady Cassandra," Cullen turned his attention to Cassandra, whose posture had not relaxed, even with the lack of a present enemy. She had found it. A possibility to stop all this madness before it could even begin, "You've manage to close the rift. Well done."

"Do not congratulate me, Commander," Cassandra sighed, finally sheathing her own sword, "This is the prisoner's doing."

Cullen looked astonished between Cassandra and the stranger who had saved his life. He had heard about the prisoner's capture. Heard rumors that the prisoner was a dangerous blood mage who had slit the throat of the divine herself before shielding herself with a barrier just before the explosion. In her black and red robes, ease and combat clarity around the battlefield, and her prowess in magic, Cullen could almost believe it. What he could not believe is why Cassandra would let her go free without constraints, let alone wield a staff.

He approached her carefully, focusing on what little Templar abilities he had left after ceasing Lyrium doses. He scrutinized her up and down, and even as he approached her she did not falter, even daring to look him in the eyes defiantly as he looked over her.

"Is it, now? I do hope the rumors are wrong about you then," He muttered, just loud enough for those around him to hear, "We've lost a lot of good people getting you to this point."

"I'm doing my best, _Commander,_ " She spat back, not necessarily venomously, but enough for him to know that she would not tolerate anyone pushing her around if the situation escalated to that, "As we all are."

"We'll see soon enough, won't we?" Cullen turned back to Cassandra, pointing further down the pass. "From what I've heard from the scouts, this was the last of the rifts on the way up to the Temple. The way should be clear. Leliana and her men should meet you when you get there."

"Then we'd best move quickly," Cassandra said, marching into action, "Buy us time, Commander."

At that cue, the soldiers, both wounded and capable, began to trudge toward the Temple of Sacred Ashes, ready to fend off whatever may delay the Seeker of Truth and her little band of misfits. Cullen began to march with them, pulling a stumbling wounded soldier off his broken leg, allowing him to put the brunt of his weight on his Commander.

"Maker watch over you," Cullen said, turning away, "For all our sakes."

The prisoner stood and watched as Cullen lead his injured comrade, muttering just barely under her breath, "The Maker cannot help us now. We're on our own."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so canon compliant right now. Most of the divergence into my own story occurs after the prologue. So, that being said, only one more chapter to go before I can really get down to my forte!


	5. By That Sin The Angels Fell

The Black City looms over everyone's dreams. Pay close enough attention and you can see it faintly in the distance of your dreams. Andromeda often gazed upon it the few times that demons did not plague her sleep. Sleek and as dark as obsidian, but even from the distance mortals were kept from it in the fade, Andromeda could still feel the corruption and destruction curling off its brilliant stones. The feeling she got from the Black City was similar to the feeling she had now as she walked through the blast site in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. In fact, this was what she would now imagine what was behind the walls of the Black City.

The smell got to her first, stopping her in her tracks before she could fully visually take in what she was seeing. The Circle Mage was not unfamiliar to the scent of burning flesh, although it wasn't a smell she was sure she would ever get used to. During the final months before the fall of Ostwick Circle, when the their temperate Templars were replaced with overzealous radical ones, the Knight-Commander didn't even give mages proper funerals, no matter the cause of death. There was a consistent pyre that burned bodies from dawn until dusk. Men, women, and children who could not stay their tongues. Those who failed their Harrowings even though they were still much too young to go through the initiations. Senor Enchanters who could no longer pull their own weight. It didn't matter to the Knight-Commander. Some even went to the pyres still living, their screams still plaguing Andromeda's nightmares.

Before her, Andromeda made out several forms, still burning. There was no skin left, charred black, sockets empty, mouths crying out for help that they would not receive. Their bodies frozen in time, showing the fear they felt as they ran, crawled, and shielded themselves. It took all of her mental will not to imagine her brother burning eternally in the aftermath of the Conclave's explosion.  

"The Temple of Sacred Ashes." Solas whispered quietly, his voice echoing in the wind even still.

"Or what's left of it." Varric grumbled.

Cassandra took a couple of tentative steps forward, leading the way once more. Andromeda's feet absent mindedly followed her, her mind attempting to drown the imagery. She pointed to a crumbling arch, black as night. Whether the stone's color was from soot and ash, or the corruption of the explosion, Andromeda didn't know.

"That's where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you," She said softly, "They say there was a woman behind you. No one knows who she was."

Andromeda rubbed her temples together as they walked, the reality that there were pieces missing from her memory finally settling in. She didn't remember the explosions, the Fade, or walking out of it. All she could recall was talking to her brother and several strangers,  and then waking up in the dungeon in shackles. Suddenly, Andromeda felt a light pat on the back. Surprised, Andromeda turned to meet with her comforter, who was surprisingly the dwarf.

"It's a lot to take in kid, I know," Varric said quietly. "But you'll get through this."

The words were simple, but effective. Andromeda nodded and returned her eyes to center, following Cassandra with renewed energy. She was focusing on too many things at once. Her memories, both past and forgotten. The Mark. Her situation. She needed to prioritize them. First things first, she needed to close the Breach and quick.

As the group walked through the destroyed halls of the Temple, Cassandra's pace began to quicken with importance. She jumped over rubble easily, followed by Solas, Andromeda, then Varric who had trouble scaling the more larger pieces although his speed was still remarkable. The tension in the air was palpable, enough so that she could possibly cut it with the dagger at the end of her staff. However, most notably, the further they went into the temple, the closer they got to the center, the more pain shuddered through Andromeda's left hand.

The hallways began getting much more rugged, and open. The sky, green and blue, visible through holes in the ceiling and walls. When the ceiling finally became open entirely, the sight both terrified and awestruck the mage. The Breach's magic swirled down from the very heavens, ascending from the memorial to Andraste in the center of, what Andromeda assumed to be, the courtyard. Physical green crystals grew from the statue's marble, rubble floating haphazardly in the air, all the way to the hole in the sky. It was truly breath taking.

"The Breach is a long way up." Varric muttered, staring straight into the sky beside her.

"You're here!" A familiar Orlesian voice sprang out from behind them, "Thank the Maker.  

Leliana sprinted up to the group followed by several scouts, dressed lightly and armed with bows, arrows, and daggers. Several of them were limping, holding their injuries, and just generally dazed. The remaining number of able bodies was gravely low.

"Leliana," Cassandra commanded, pointing to several positions around the breach, "Have your men take up positions around the Temple. No one gets close unless they are without debilitating injuries, understand?"

The Nightingale nodded and swiftly set up her scouts equidistantly around the Breach, pushing the more injured scouts to the back. Leliana herself took up position on the front lines, arrow ready for anything. Cassandra marched up to Andromeda and pointed at the Breach.

"This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

"I suppose there's no turning back now is there?" She asked sarcastically, attempting to smile a bit past the butterflies that swam violently in her gut. "Just, _please_ tell me you have a plan to get me up there."

"Not all the way up, no. But that shouldn't be necessary," Solas answered, pointing at the crystals towards the midsection of Andromeda's memorial. "That rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the entire breach."

Andromeda nodded solemnly, swirling her staff a couple of times nervously before setting off down the path towards the courtyard. She began to hum listlessly as they traversed the steps of the Temple once again, flashes of light similar to lightning lighting up the path before them. The tune, however, was interrupted by a booming voice from inside her head. It interrupted all thought process, sending her into a panic as she turned to the others. Apparently, they were hearing it as well.

_ "Now is the hour of victory. Bring forth the sacrifice." _

"What are we hearing?" Cassandra asked, pushing forward.

"At a guess?" Solas asked, clearly not as shaken by the invading voice as the others. "The person who created the Breach."

"Yeah, but why in our heads, Chuckles?" Varric asked.

"Our proximity to the Breach, I think." He explained, "The strongest memories here are that of the events of the Conclave: before, during, and after."

"Yeah, but _why in our heads,_ " Varric reiterated, "If this is some Fade crap, I shouldn't even be able to hear it."

"On the contrary, child of the stone," Solas remarked, "Although you are not connected to the Fade, the Breach is spilling out energy that every living being can feel. You don't have to be connected to sense and interact with what is, in the same sense that you can still harm demons and demons can harm you even though they originate from the Fade."

The pair bickered back and forth about Fade logistics for several paces, Varric always having and comeback, and Solas always having a hypothesis or an answer. The chatter died down in the middle of Varric's retort, his pace quickening past Cassandra as he crouched to observe something in the distance.

As Andromeda got closer, she could see what caught his attention. It was lyrium, that she was sure of, although its color was completely off. She could sense the natural magic running through the crystals, but they felt darker, similar to poison. Andromeda began to walk closer to Varric when he put his hand out to stop her.

"Trust me, kid. You _don't_ want to touch this stuff," He warned, "Especially as a mage. You know this is _red lyrium,_ Seeker."

"I see it, Varric." Cassandra said, walking briskly past the growing amounts of the red crystals. Her voice was calm, but the way she kept to the side, as far away from the lyrium as she could gave her uneasiness away.

"But what's it doing here?" He asked, catching up to the focused woman, clearly on edge and taking perfect care that his feet were nowhere near the crystals growing from under them.

"Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple. The events of the Conclave must have corrupted it." Solas replied, walking briskly besides Andromeda, gripping nervously onto his staff.

"Its evil. Whatever you do, don't touch it."

" _Keep the Sacrifice still._ "

Andromeda stumbled for a second, clutching at her head. Vaguely, she saw Varric doing the same while Cassandra and Solas seemed hardly bothered by it, or just incredibly tolerant of the magic at use. Still the two pressed on, which meant that so did Andromeda. As long as someone was moving, she would be as well. The further they descended down the rubble of the Temple, the more precarious the path became. Missing steps, missing hallways. At a certain point, Cassandra had just decided that the best way to get to the courtyard as quick as possible was to jump the remaining distance down to the bottom. At best, they were about six meters up, a hefty distance to be sure, but not unmanageable. Cassandra took the plunge first, then Andromeda, Solas, and lastly Varric.

" _Please, help me!_ "

This time Andromeda wasn't completely caught off guard by the voice inside her head. It still made her ears ring, but it wasn't unbearable. Faintly, in the far recesses of her memory, she could recognize the owner of the voice. Older. Orlesian.  As the group approached The Breach though, Andromeda's hand sparked instantly bright and hot, taking her away from the woman's voice from the rift. The closer they walked, the more the rift itself reacted by expanding and retracting, and her mark became more painful.

" _What's going on here?_ "

Andromeda stopped in her tracks. That was her voice. There was no doubting that. It didn't come from her lips. It was inside her head like a thought that rang to loudly. Her eyes were wide as she looked into the rift, exchanging clueless glances with her current companions. Cassandra walked up to Andromeda, not exactly angry or accusing, but alert in what she had just heard.

"That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you, but..." Cassandra surmised, interrupted by another blast from the Breach. However, what came from the Breach was not another hoard of demons, but a projection. Like watching a dream being played out before you.

The Divine was hanging mid-air, suspended by some sort of magic while someone paced around her, his form blurry and undistinguishable. He stood unnaturally tall as he paced, as if he were proud of what was happening. But there was an air of superiority in the way that he walked, entitled, noble, if Andromeda had to describe the feeling with words, even if they weren't quite what she was thinking.  

Just beyond him, Andromeda recognized herself, circle robes clean and presentable, hair neatly made. She stood at the front of a small group of people, but just as the mystery man in front of the Divine, their forms were blurred, unfocused, and undistinguishable. The Divine struggled, yelling out to Andromeda.

" _You must go now! Warn them!"_

The man lashed out calmly, attacking Andromeda with powerful magic easily as if magic of that caliber only required a passing thought and not total concentration. She and the group dodged quickly, rolling out of the way at the last minute. The events passed so quickly, she wasn't sure if she or the group she came in with left that attack entirely unscathed.

" _We have intruders. Slay them, quickly._ "

The projection exploded around them, returning quickly into the rift from which it came. Cassandra ran to Andromeda, confused, slightly angry, but her voice sounded determine and hopeful.

"So you _were_ there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she--" Cassandra sputtered, "Was this vision true? What are we seeing?!"

"I. Don't. Remember." Andromeda reiterated. "I'm just as confused as you are. I don't remember that at all."

"Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds from this place." Solas muttered quietly, staring into the rift as it contracted and grew at its own whim. Had they not been close to him, they might not have heard it. It was clear he was speaking only to himself, trying to understand the situation from a different standpoint than Cassandra. Solas turned to Cassandra and Andromeda, clear that now was the time for them to act. "This rift is not sealed, but it is closed, albeit temporarily. I believe with Mark the rift can be reopened and the sealed correctly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side."

Cassandra sneered, turning immediately to the soldiers stationed around her on ledges and waiting patiently for battle on the ground beside them. "That means demons. Stand ready!"

The soldiers drew their weapons, pulling swords from scabbards, shields to front, staves battle ready, and arrows notched. Cassandra turned back to Andromeda who was standing nervously under the rift, unsure of what exactly would happen to her if she did this. No one did. Even Solas with all his theories was not exactly sure that this would even work, and although unsaid, that meant that there was a possibility such thoughtless actions might directly affect her. Could this kill her? Make her tranquil. Only one way to find out.

Andromeda thrust her hand forward, and instantly she could feel a difference between this rift from the ones before. It was powerful. It pulled at her more violently than the others, but Andromeda counteracted the force with her own will to survive. She would not give in to this, not yet. She pulled away from the rift like before, but instead of disappearing, the rift shot exploded outwards launching Andromeda off her feet and violently knocking her to the ground.

Her hit the ground with a loud snap, and it didn't take much for her to ascertain that she was injured immediately. Her vision swam and she immediately felt like vomiting, although her stomach was completely empty. The adrenaline running through her system however kept her from passing out entirely. Once her vision calmed down, she saw what everyone was seeing. The rift lashed out, and just in front of her something tore through, charging her. It screeched and as it ran, the ground shook. She held her head and struggled upwards, knowing she had to get out of the way, but her body was too imbalanced by her initial impact. Arrows flew uselessly against her adversary, and those around her were too slow.

She was going to die.

Suddenly, Andromeda felt someone grab her around her midsection  rolling her to the side just as the beast collided with the wall behind her, sending several archers tumbling.

"Solas!"

"On my way,"

Andromeda focused once more, and saw a flash of red hair shooting arrows from the beast lodged in the wall. A flush of relief flood through her head, steadying her vision completely, and putting everything into clarity. The beast was a Pride Demon and  her savior was none other than the Left Hand of the Divine herself. Solas brushed himself off as he rose from above Andromeda, pulling her up with him.

"You have a severe head injury. My magic will keep it together for a short time, but you'll need immediate attention."

Andromeda nodded and turned to the Pride Demon which dislodged itself from the wall, and swung its arms at several soldiers. "Well then, let's get this over with quickly, shall we?"

Andromeda reached behind her, glad that the impact hadn't left her weaponless, the staff Leliana provided her with still in perfect condition. She spun it gracefully, watching the demon as it relocated Andromeda, obviously aiming for her. The Mark must have been a beacon for demons, or she was just a very appealing mage. It began to charge just as Andromeda slammed her staff down to the ground, shooting several beams of light towards the demon. With each hit, it began to slow, until its footfalls were so slow that it barely looked like the demon was moving at all.

"Now!" Cassandra commanded.

The soldiers and scouts converged on the demon simultaneously, slashing, hacking, and shooting. It was barely leaving a dent in it, even without it having to fight back. Andromeda grimaced as she observed, looking over to Solas who had a similar face.

"The rift is protecting it," He explained, "If it were not, this demon would have been vanquished already. Pride demons are tough, but they cannot withstand thirty steel swords."

Andromeda looked at the rift and then back to the Pride demon who's pace was quickening as Andromeda's spell began to wear off. It swirled around it, almost like a think protective shell. She grinned, and looked at Solas triumphantly. For purely theoretical hypotheses, the elf was good. She charged the demon as his pace returned to normal, pivoting her foot at the last second to avoid its head on charge. She thrust out her hand again, praying to the Maker that the Mark would work. In response, the Mark fluttered to life, and tethered itself to the demon. The farther it got from her, the more sure Andromeda was sure that her plan would work. As soon as she felt the barrier tugging back at her, she pulled ripping the protective layer from the demon.  

Around them, several shades emerged from rift, protecting the now vulnerable Pride demon. Thankfully this time there were enough soldiers and scouts to keep them preoccupied while her team focused on the big hitter. The demon began glowing purple, sparking around them. At the last possible moment, Andromeda threw up a barrier around her companions, blocking them from the electrical explosion the demon had used in defense. It was distanced enough from the other soldiers, that even the ones that got hit were only momentarily paralyzed by it.

The demon crouched, panting as it attempted to revitalize its strength. Andromeda looked desperately at Cassandra, who made direct eye contact with her. They were powerful enough to end this now if they were quick and synchronized. Cassandra nodded as if she were reading Andromeda's mind and readied her blade, charging forward. Andromeda did the same, magical blade forming as she got closer. Her attack would be more powerful if she struck just as her blade formed completely.

The mage began to hum to herself, and from her own eyes, time began to slow down. She could see the scouts watching her charge, and holding back the other smaller demons. She saw Varric providing them support, not even bothering to pay attention to the bigger threat. He had too much confidence in the fighters around him. Andromeda wasn't sure if that was a good or bad things, and probably depended on the outcome of each battle. Solas was barraging the Pride demon with attack after attack, providing fire power for Cassandra and Andromeda's move.

Cassandra's footfalls were completely in sync with Andromeda's in both length and stride, two warriors of different abilities linking together in the heat of battle. As the two approached the demon, they swung together. Cassandra's blade made of steel, sure, ready, and strong. Andromeda's blade was not yet fully formed, but was as white hot as a volcano. As the two connected to the demon, time began to speed up for Andromeda again. Cassandra's steel hit the demons right midsection, while Andromeda's blade hit its left, formed at full power.

The demon screamed as it was cut entirely in half by two mere mortals. It clawed as the Fade reclaimed it, lashing out at whatever it could get its claws on, but he simply faded through everything physical.

Andromeda collapsed, panting from the amount of mana she had used to incur that strike upon the demon. The drain left her weak, her vision swimming once again as Solas' healing spell no longer had energy to resupply her with. Cassandra ran to Andromeda and gripped her shoulder, pulling her to her feet once more.

"It's not over yet!" She yelled, "You must do it now! Seal the rift."

Andromeda's weakly shot her hand forward, the rift pulling at her more violently than when she had opened it. However, it didn't connect properly, shooting energy back at her much more powerful than the pulling. It took all the willpower and strength she had left to stay standing and try again. Once again the connection rebounded. She tried once more, and tethered herself to the rift mind, body, and soul. The way it tugged at her, she knew that if she lost her will now, the rift would destroy her very existence. With every ounce of strength she had, she pulled against the rift, yelling as her body resisted her at every turn.

The rift exploded, pushing everyone and everything in its path backwards. The last thing Andromeda saw as she lost consciousness was the rift spiraling upwards towards the Breach. And then, the darkness claimed her.

* * *

 

Andromeda's dreams were never the same. There was plenty the Fade had to tantalize her with as well as terrorize her. If it wasn't simple dreams or nightmares, it was mind games with demons. This dream, however, felt like none of those. She felt as though she could be in danger at any moment, but for the time being she was safe, something that relied solely on her decisions. It felt like when she was with demons, but lacked the presence of demons themselves. Instead, there was only her and one other figure, unfamiliar and foreign.

The mage sat at a long table, something she recognized immediately. The table was the Trevelyan dining table, specially made by the wood of a Ferelden Pine, and engraved in gold along the sides. In the center the Trevelyan seal and motto was also engraved in gold. The table sent feelings of sadness and nostalgia all at once. However, about midway through the table, several trees grew. Their leaves were multiple vibrant colors. Colors she had never seen before. Colors she didn't know existed, and couldn't repeat even if she tried. The leaves concealed the figure sitting on the other side, their silhouette vague and unrevealing.

"Whether you live or die," It rasped, "That is your choice now, mage."

Andromeda's nose wrinkled in confusion, brows furred. "Live or die?"

"Yes." The figure confirmed, tapping the wood of the table ominously. "Live and suffer every pain this world has to offer. Death. Loss. Betrayal. But live and give yourself the chance to make it better. Yourself. The world. The lives of the people around you." It explained, its rhythmic tapping entrancing as it spoke. If this were a demon, which Andromeda was positive it wasn't, than she'd have been lost already. "Or die and never suffer again. Never cry. Never feel pain or sorrow. But never experience what could have been. Never give yourself a chance. Abandon those who would call you their savior." The tapping stopped. "Your choice."

Her chest felt heavy as the figure talked, every word adding pressure until she felt she would break. "Why give me a choice?"

The figure cackled, "Quite the question, indeed. I guess the simple answer is: I've never given _anyone_ a choice before. I've been leading villains and heroes across the grand stage of life on their puppet strings for millennia. What happens next is beyond my control. I might as well give the star a choice on her role."

The figure cackled again, and it sent a shiver through Andromeda's bones. Whoever this was, whatever they were, they were old and very, very powerful. She had a million questions, but she could feel the finality in the figure's last words. She wouldn't be getting any more information, and if she pushed, the choice she was being given could be rescinded as quickly as it was offered, if the figure even had the ability to offer. She sighed and looked at the table, old and worn as it was, and then returned her eyes to the silhouette.

"I've never been one to give up," She whispered, knowing that the figure could hear her, "And Maker knows I've experienced more hurt than the average person could ever handle. You're asking me to give up or press on, and you've disguised it as something else. I've always had the choice to live or die on my own accord. It's not something you can simply give me. So, like every time this choice has come to me, I choose to live. I will always choose to live."

The figure laughed once again, heartily. "Oh child, your belief in the control of your own destiny is refreshing. Irrelevant. But refreshing." The trees between the two began to wither and curl away, revealing the figure to Andromeda. "Then you shall live. I will be watching the course of these events closely. Don't disappoint."

* * *

 

Andromeda's eyes were heavy as she attempted to open them. The light blinded her at first, so it took a couple of tries for her to let her eyes get used to it. She couldn't remember anything about her dream, although she was sure she had one. She never had dreamless nights, and she always remembered. Her head pounded in frustration, and when she moved to comfort the pounding, she was surprised by the sharp pain she felt instead. Her head was wrapped tightly in cloth bandages. She looked at her fingers, relieved to see that there was no blood. She remembered the blow to the head she had received at the Temple, and suddenly adrenaline began pumping through her system again. She was in battle. The Breach needed to be sealed!

But she was in a cabin. In a cozy cabin that smelled nothing of blood and sweat. It smelled of peppermint and burning wood. It was warm and comfortable. She was lying in a bed with pillows stuff with feathers, and wrapped in leather. This wasn't a battlefield. It wasn't the Circle. It wasn't the temple. Where was she?

The door at the far end of the room swung open, startling Andromeda as an elf stumbled in with the cold wind. She was small, smaller than she was, and her ears were tipped pink from the cold. The elf was holding a small wooden box when she turned her attention to Andromeda. Her eyes widened and she dropped the crate with a small "Oh!"

Andromeda quickly rose to her feet to catch the box out of reflex, but she immediately became dizzy and stumbled. The elf had enough sense to grab her forearm and steady her.

"I didn't know you were awake. I swear."

Andromeda's brows furrowed in confusion as she slowly bent over to pick up the fallen items from the crate. Bandages and some now-shattered poultice bottles. She must have been coming in to change her bandages and tend to her wounds. The medicinal supplies made her painfully aware of every bruise, cut, and sore muscle.

"It's alright. There's no need to be frightened. Unless something's happened? What's wrong?"

"T-that's wrong, isn't? I said the wrong thing."

"I don't think so?"

The girl dropped to her knees immediately, bowing forward, head touching the ground as she spoke. She didn't rise.

"I beg your forgiveness, and your blessing. I am but a humble servant." The girl explained, never once meeting eye contact again. "You are back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing just like the Mark on your hand. It's all anyone's talked about for the past three days."

"Then we're safe?" Andromeda asked, looking at her marked left hand. It was bandaged, but she could see the slight green glow coming from it.

"I-I don't know the specifics." The elf rose to her feet, keeping her head low, and backing away slowly as if she were retreating from a hungry wolf. "I'm certain Lady Cassandra would like to know you've awakened. She said 'at once'."

"And where is she?"

"In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor," The girl turned and ran, "'At once' she said!"

With the girl's absence, Andromeda was unsure if the girl was afraid of her or of Cassandra or of them both. She didn't understand anything. She was back at Haven? She still had the Mark? Was she to go to Trial now that the ordeal was finished for the time being? If Cassandra needed her, she'd also likely have the answer to her questions.

Andromeda looked around and slipped on a pair of fur boots and a fur coat to keep her warm. The snow was still sticking outside from what she saw, and she wore only a thin pair of leather trousers and a shirt.

As she pushed open the door and readjusted the sleeve of the coat, she could hear the mumbling of a silent crowd before her. Her hand fell from her shoulder as she saw what lie before her. Soldiers saluted as she approached, appalled by their respectful stances as opposed to how they had treated her earlier. Behind the lines of soldiers were villagers, refugees, and Chantry faithful. Some whispered as she past. Some bowed. Some grimaced. Their mumbling was quiet and they all spoke at once, so she couldn't discern any specific comments or words.

The mumbling and murmuring never once ceasing, even as she reached the Chantry. The doors were already wide open, soldiers saluting as she walked past them. She vaguely remembered it from when she had been kept prisoner from beneath it. However, at the time she had no paid too much attention to the details of her surroundings. She was too worried about the Mark, the Breach, and Cassandra's accusing stare.

It was beautiful in a rustic way. Candles lined the halls near several statues of Andraste, and she had never seen the pattern of the stones was walking on before. The banners were old and fraying at the bottom though, the only indicator of the Chantry's age.

As Andromeda approached the back room, she heard several voice arguing from within. What she found surprising was that they were talking about her. Not one to eavesdrop, and not one to allow others to speak of her behind her back, Andromeda simply burst through the doors.

The Chancellor was more shocked than anyone in the room. He looked between the three others in the room and then pointed at Andromeda with a crooked, wrinkled finger.

"Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the Capital for a trial.

Cassandra stepped between Andromeda and the Chancellor, and leaned against the table in frustration. "Disregard that and leave us."

The guards did not even hesitate to follow the orders.

"You walk a dangerous line, Seeker," The puffy faced man spat.

"The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat." She sneered at him, speaking to him as if her were only a child, annunciating each word, contemplating is she should use more simple vocabulary. "I will not ignore it."

"I did all I could back at the Temple," Andromeda explained with exasperation, "It almost killed me, but I did more than you did, _Chancellor._ "

"Who are you to judge me? _Your action_ will be taken into account by the new Divine."

"The Breach is not the only threat we face, Chancellor," Leliana said from across the room, tapping her foot impatiently on the stone. "Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the other, or have allies who yet live."

" _I am a suspect?_ " The Chancellor asked incredulously.

"You," Leliana spat, "And many others."

"But not the _prisoner._ "

"Dear Maker," Andromeda sighed, "I have a name."

"I heard the voice in the Temple," Cassandra said, "The Divine called to Andromeda for help."

"So his survival, that thing on her hand, all a coincidence?"

"Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour."

Andromeda was thrown off by both the words and the look Cassandra was giving her. Save for the Chancellor the look echoed around the inhabitants of the others in the room. It was different from the elven girl in the cabin, but similar in their reverence. Andromeda had simply thought that it was hero worship for what she had done at the Temple, and that multiple soldiers were getting it.

"You do realized that I'm a mage," Andromeda spat out bitterly, "A Circle Mage, _condemned_ by the Maker. I'm no gift. I'm not providence."

"No matter what you are or what you believe," Cassandra explained calmly, "You are exactly what we needed when we needed it most."

"The Breach remains," Leliana said, taking over, "And your mark is our only hope at still closing it."

"This is not for you to decide," The Chancellor spat.

Cassandra marched past Leliana and Andromeda towards the table and slammed down a thickly bound and paged book. The front symbol seemed similar to that of the Chantry, yet different. Older somehow.

"Do you know what this is, Chancellor?" Cassandra seethed, "A writ from the Divine granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order with or without your approval."

The Chancellor backed off as Cassandra got in his face, red in either frustration, embarrassment, or both. Leliana grinned slightly as he left, slamming the door behind him.

"This is the Divine's directive. Rebuild the Inquisition of old," Leliana explained, "Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support."

"But we have no choice," Cassandra replied, "We must act now. With you at our side, Andromeda."

"The Inquisition? That organization has a bloody history and it lead to a bloody future. What makes you think it'll work again this time around?"

"It's true, that the Inquisition became the Templar Order, and that the Order has lost its way. We need those who are able to act underneath a single banner once more, without restriction and prejudice."

"But aren't you still part of the Chantry?" Andromeda asked, "Wouldn't allying yourself with a mage seem blasphemous?"

"Is that what you see?" Cassandra scoffed.

"The Chantry will take time to find a new Divine, and then it will wait for her direction." Leliana explained.

"But we cannot wait," Cassandra continued, "So many grand clerics died at the Conclave. No. We are on our own. Perhaps forever."

"You intend to start a holy war!" Andromeda panicked, slamming a frustrated hand down on the table, scared by the implication.

"We are already at war. You are already involved. Its mark is upon you. As to whether the war is holy, that depends on what we discover."

Andromeda bent over, head touching the table, then pushed off of it and began to pace the room. The implications of what these two were about to do were heavy. It could get all involved a death sentence. It was risky and there was no solid plan, just a blue print written by an old, likely dead, woman. And she wasn't religious. She wasn't fighting for the Maker. Or Andraste. But there were innocents involved. So many died at the Conclave and she was almost amongst their numbers. She had a duty to act. There was no choice in this.

"If you're truly trying to restore order..."

"That is the plan."

"Help us fix this, before it's too late," Cassandra extended her hand. Andromeda smiled a bit as she looked at it, and Cassandra tilted her head before, confused. Andromeda noticed and shook her hand strongly, and explained.

"I've never shook hands with anyone who wasn't a mage before," She said, "It's a sign of equality, even playing ground. Respect."

"Oh," Cassandra said, a slight blush coming to her cheeks, "Then know that you are our equal in every way. Your connection to the Fade does not diminish that."

"Thank you."

Leliana sighed in relief and marched towards the door, "I will get Leliana and Cullen now that we've rid ourselves of the Chancellor. I will return with them momentarily."

At her departure, Andromeda leaned against the table and sighed heavily, feeling surprisingly at ease around the Seeker of Truth, although she didn't think the feeling was reciprocated. She still stood at attention, never once relaxing in Andromeda's presence. She was staring at Andromeda's bandaged hand.

"Does it trouble you?"

Andromeda looked at her hand, and considered it for a moment.

"Kind of. It's not that painful anymore, kind of dull and numb at the moment. But when I use it, or if the Breach expands, it's not exactly a feeling one can get used to easily."

"That's good to hear. What's important right now is that the Mark is stable, as is the Breach. You've given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed at closing the Breach permanently provided the Mark has enough power. The same level of power used to create the Breach in the first place."

"I assume you have a plan?"

"We do."

At that moment, the door swung open again. Leliana reappeared followed by two others, one she vaguely recognized and the other completely new.

The woman had bronze skin and grey eyes, thoughtful and calculating. The way she dressed, walked, and stood screamed noble. Only nobles wore golden colored pants after all. Her hair was also braided into a tight bun. Even as she walked, she was staring a clipboard of papers, signing frivolously. It was a wonder that the woman did not walk into the table on the way into the room.

The man was different. He didn't have as much care for the way he looked as Leliana and the other woman had. In fact, his style was more in line with Cassandra's. He wore red and gold covered by fur pauldrons, and he walked with authority. He was a leader, not by talent, but by experience. Only those who rose through the ranks of leadership walked with that sort of gait. His skin was fair, scarred in several place, most notably his upper lip, and there was a bit of stubble growing on his chin. His hair was golden and styled back, shining in the light, something that brought Andromeda a little bit of amusement. His amber eyes were hard, but strangely not cold.

"Andromeda," Cassandra started, "May I begin formal introductions. This is Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces."

"Such as they are," Cullen sighed, "Although, we did meet briefly on the battlefield, if I do recall. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through. But you saved many who would have been doomed otherwise, myself included. For that I thank you."

Andromeda smiled and nodded slightly at the man. She had to admit, the way he carried himself, the way he spoke....it was rather attractive. And the smile made him blush, which was rather adorable.

"This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our Ambassador and Chief Diplomat."

"I've heard much. It's a pleasure to finally meet you at last," She said quietly, the flame of the candle on her clipboard illuminating her face warmly. The roll of her accent would have told her that the woman was Antivan, had the name Montilyet not already sounded familiar. Her family had dealings with the Antivan noble house when she was still a child, and they perhaps still carried a benevolent relationship.

"And of course you know Sister Leliana."

"My position here requires a degree of--"

"She's our Spymaster."

" _Yes,_ tactfully put Cassandra."

"It's a pleasure to officially  meet all of you," Andromeda said, folding her hands together and bowing deeply to the group.

"I mentioned that we have a plan to give your Mark more power--"

"Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help." Leliana said.

"I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well." Cullen replied, argumentatively.

"We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark--" Cassandra retorted.

"Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so --" Cullen argued back.

"Pure speculation." Leliana said.

"I was a Templar. I know what they're capable of."

At that declaration, Andromeda took a step towards the table to steady herself. The movement was small, and it went unnoticed by most, although Andromeda could tell that Leliana had glanced at her briefly. It wasn't that she had a bad relationship with Templars. In fact, she had been pro-Templar a majority of her life. One had saved her life when she was younger after all. But one had also tore down everything she thought she was in a matter of months. Twenty-three years of self-reflection and her tore her down in six months. The title of Templar was sullied for her, and left a foul taste in her mouth, one that would not subside so easily with just time.

"Unfortunately," Josephine interrupted the bickering, "Neither group will speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition, and you specifically, Lady Trevelyan."

"They still think I'm responsible?"

"It's not that exactly. Some are calling you -- a mage -- the 'Herald of Andraste.' That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you."

"Chancellor Roderick's doing," Cassandra said bitterly, "No doubt."

"Wait, wait, wait, back up a minute here," Andromeda sputtered pushing away from the table. "Just how am I ' _The Herald of Andraste'_?"

"People saw what you did at the temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing," Cassandra explained, "They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste."

"Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading--" Leliana continued.

"Which we haven't."

"The point is everyone is talking about you."

"It's quite the title, isn't it," The Commander said softly, smug smile on his face, "How do you feel about it?"

"They're wrong," Andromeda denied, "All my life I was told that I was a mistake. That people born with magic are mistakes, and suddenly the Maker sends me, a mage, to be the messenger for his glorified bride? I'm no Andrastian. I'm no Herald."

"I'm sure the Chantry would agree," The Commander muttered, brows furrowed at her words, an expression shared amongst the group.

"People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you're that sign." Leliana enlightened.

"And to others, a symbol of everything that's gone wrong." Josephine finished.

"They aren't more considered about the Breach," Andromeda spat back, still in shock about her title, "The real threat!?"

"They do know it's a threat, they just don't think _we_ can stop it." Cullen explained.

"They're telling everyone you'll make it worse," Josephine once again reiterated.

"There is something you can do, however," Leliana cut in, "A Chantry Cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and she knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable."

"I'll hear what she has to say," Andromeda sighed, relenting, "But I cannot promise more."

"You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe. I will send my scouts and then inform you when it is safest to travel."

"In the meantime," Cassandra spoke, "Let's thing of other options. I won't leave this all to the Herald."

Andromeda stiffened at the title, clearly uncomfortable by the implications and the weight of what it meant for her.


End file.
